


5 Times Peter Patched Himself Up, And The 1 Time He Didn't Have To

by TastyBrownies



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, But Also Oblivious Avengers, Gen, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt Peter, Just For A While There, Peter gets hurt a lot, Protective Avengers, Tony Stark Has A Heart, lots of wounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-06 02:17:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11590881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TastyBrownies/pseuds/TastyBrownies
Summary: Exactly what it says in the title.





	5 Times Peter Patched Himself Up, And The 1 Time He Didn't Have To

**Author's Note:**

> This doesn't actually take place in the same universe as my "Hurt Little Spider" fic - It isn't compliant with Spider-Man: Homecoming in any way or with that fic, so it's actually completely separate.  
> Hope you enjoy! :D  
> (Also, not beta'd)

**-1**

 

Peter loved physics.

He really, really did.

So you really couldn’t blame him for regretting having to leave class when Thunder shook the sky (in the most beautiful day of spring to date), followed by a window shattering roar. Seriously, like two windows shattered.

Excusing himself to the bathroom, he webbed his civvies into the vent, put on the mask, and in less than five minutes found the source of the noise. (surprise, surprise.)

“Hey guys! What are we smashing up today?” he clung to the side of a small house.

“This metal woman released beasts into the city! Clearly, she didn’t consider she would have to face the mighty Prince of Thunder!”

“And Hulk.” The Mean Green added, cracking his neck.

“And Hulk.” Thor agreed, albeit less enthusiastically.

“What kind of beasts are we talking about? Big smash-y ones or small pesky ones?”

“Big smash-y. Smash good.” Hulk smiled, punching his hand repeatedly. Peter gulped. He swung to a nearby building, a bit taller, and climbed to the top, trying to survey the scene in the streets. It looked bad- some kind of creatures running rampant, terrorizing citizens and damaging all variations of property. Before he could say anything, someone landed in front of them in what was indeed, as Thor had described, a metal suit. Although it looked more like armor than anything else.

“You.” She stepped forward, looking pleased. Peter quickly scampered down the building. She looked like she wanted to add something, but before she could, Peter jumped, landed in front of her, and said:

“Indeed, it is I, your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man!” He webbed her in the face and turned to Thor and Hulk.

“Hey, guys? I think I might have a…” He trailed off as they both jumped at the first opportunity to bash the lady’s head in. “Plan. Well, guess I’m gonna have to go deal with the _beasts_ running rampant in the city.” He sighed, then shot a web at the highest building he could find, and made his way to the center of the city. The beasts seemed completely uncoordinated, looking for anything to take a bite out of. Peter took a deep breath. “I am _so_ gonna regret this.” He swung a bit forward, trying to get a head start on the things. “Hey, stinky! Over here!”

They all immediately turned in his direction. “Yeah, I meant all of you!”

They started growling ferociously, their attention solely on him. One problem – this wasn’t all of them. There were still some in other parts of the city. “Let’s play follow the leader!” He called and swung forward, pleased – mostly mortified, but still – to find his plan was working. They were all following him. He swung, hard right, spotting a few more backing a civilian into a wall. “Excuse me! Is this the furry convention?” he called, grabbing their attention. They soon followed their sharp-toothed friends’ suit, as Peter kept swinging and collecting a bigger and bigger crowd. “Okay, I think that’s all of them… time for the big plan.” He landed on the roof and started running, leaping from roof to roof, until eventually, he reached it-

“The power plant. Now to just lure them in…” He dove off the side of the building, sticking to it and quickly scampering down. Now the beasts started barking. “Great. Like wolves. Fantastic.” He muttered. He gulped, then jumped to the floor and immediately started running.

Peter regretted all his life’s choices.

“AHHHHHHHHHHH!” he couldn’t find it in him to quip with an army of hungry _somethings_ on his tail. Unfortunately, he could barely make it to the first generator when they started catching up to him. “Oh no, no no no!” He yelled, reaching out to the generator in vain – one of the beasts caught his leg in its maw. “OW! Holy mother of-“ He started, feeling the teeth sink into his calf, but was cut off by the thing starting to _shake him around_ like a rag doll. He didn’t talk for fear of biting his own tongue off. Peter lost count of how many times the thing shook him until it _finally_ let him go, throwing him backward and out of the plant. Peter was seeing double- he was dizzy and a bit nauseous, but he had a _plan_ , and he _did not_ run all the way here just to start over again, dang it! So, he blinked, mid-air, and everything seemed to slow down. He aimed his web-shooter at the generator, pulling himself forward. He landed on the thing, jumping high up and shooting webs over all the creatures, coating them all in the things, keeping them in place. And then he realized that he kind of cut off his only way of doing this without hurting himself. He groaned.

“I was _going_ to let you dive in all on your own then web all of you up and let you electrocute yourself, but now… oh man, this is gonna hurt.” He somersaulted, landing on the ground between the generator and the beasts as he shot a web at the nearest one – then punched a hole through the generator. (You see, he was using his body and his webs as conductors. He would point out that fact, even though it would have fallen on deaf ears, aside from the fact that his teeth chattering with the electric current were kind of preventing him from doing that at that moment.) The creatures howled with pain, but after 5 agonizing seconds (which felt like 10 _years_ ), they finally collapsed.

Unfortunately, so did Peter.

“Oooow.” He groaned to no one in particular. His head hurt like an elephant had sat on it, he was dizzy and seeing double, and he was almost sick then and there. “Have… to get back… to class…” he wheezed, struggling to get to his feet. What was wrong with him, anyway? Surely getting electrocuted shouldn’t have made him dizzy and nauseous? Then again, that _might_ be all the shaking.

Probably the shaking.

He shut his eyes, mustering up all his strength, and got to his feet. He slowly limped out of the plant (that’s right, one of the things _bit_ him, too! How exciting!), deciding Thor and Hulk could deal with the passed-out things. He tried looking up at the buildings but winced at the light. Walking would take ages… he sighed, almost hurling in the process. He would _have_ to swing. Future Peter will surely excuse him, he thought as he shot a web and started swinging.

 _Future Peter did not excuse past Peter, nope, not at all, not one tiny bit._ Was the only thing he could think about as he was vomiting his guts out in the school bathroom.

At least he managed to actually get back to class _kind_ of alright. Except for the, you know, splitting headache. He webbed over the bite wound, deciding to deal with it when he got home. His dizziness subsided, but he completely gave up on trying to concentrate on school.

About three hours later he finally got home, and looked up the “symptoms”, turning down his screen brightness as much as he could.

“Oh great, a concussion. At least I have Tylenol…” He muttered, going to get his first aid kit. Getting the webbing off his wound was _awful_ , but one quick look at his leg showed he didn’t need stitches, which was a relief. He still wasn’t all that good with stitches, and with his dizziness trying to stitch his leg wouldn’t be a good idea.

He swallowed two Tylenol pills and face-planted into his bed.

About a week and a half later he was good as new. Thank you, healing factor.

 

 

========================================================================

 

 

 

**-2**

 

Pterodactyls were circling in the sky above Time’s Square.

_Pterodactyls._

In _New York._

There were several things wrong with that in Peter’s eyes. Hawkeye, on the other hand, seemed to think otherwise. He zip-lined onto the roof Peter was currently occupying, rolling into a crouch.

“So, just another Tuesday, huh?” He said, surveying the scene. Peter scoffed.

“You and I have very different Tuesdays, Hawkeye.”

He just chuckled, notched an arrow in his bow and took down two of the things in one shot.

“Okay, Web-Head, time to make these birds go extinct again.”

“What? But they’re so-” Hawkeye jumped off the roof, zip lining to the next building. “-cool…” Peter finished to himself.

He sagged.

“Guess it’s time to completely ignore the fact that extinct animals are awesome and that their existence here is a scientific anomaly that should probably be studied and just pound them.” He rambled. “Hey BIRD-BRAIN!”

“SQUAWK!” The pterodactyl replied intelligently, and started swooping toward Peter, along with three of its friends. Peter webbed their eyes, forcing them to fly blind. Before they crashed into the building, he jumped, twisting his body so he landed on the front ones back, then made make-shift reigns out of his webbing and attached them to the pterodactyl’s face.

“Hey! Look at me! I hijacked your buddy!” He called as the ones which crashed into the roof he left behind came to, tearing the web down. “I’m gonna give you a name,” He said, steering his new ride towards Hawkeye (he had a plan! Sort of. The point is he wasn’t just being crazy!) “You’ll be… pterodactyl Perry!” He veered Perry away from a building’s edge, twisting back to make sure the other ones were still on their tail. “Hey, Hawkeye! I got a delivery for- woAH!” He was (rudely) cut off by Perry throwing him off. Peter twisted, trying to land on his feet, but the throw caught him off guard and he lost his bearing. He spun around in the air a couple of times (the roof was still a way away from Perry) and ended up landing on his side, tumbling on the ground. He decided to ignore the sound of something breaking that reached his ears upon impact with the roof.

“You were saying, web for brains?”

“Perry, you traitor!” There was a faint stabbing sensation in his ribs. “He betrayed me!” He continued yelling, aware he would possibly regret it later. All the pterodactyls started circling around them. “Hawkeye! Do you have some kind of flash-bang arrow that can make them converge in one spot?” He called over the loud flapping of the pterodactyls’ wings, and their squawks.

“Yeah! I think I see where you’re going with this, kid!” Hawkeye yelled back, picking out an arrow and taking a minute to aim at a spot in the ring of pterodactyls. He released the arrow, and it exploded right in the middle of the ring, emitting a loud shrieking noise and a blinding flash. Peter immediately shut his eyes and covered his ears, but it didn’t help. The shriek echoed in his head, making him feel like his very skull was vibrating, and the light was still burning behind his eyes, making his head hurt.

He curled in on himself. He should have been prepared for this – he was the one who told Hawkeye to use a flash-bang arrow. He took a deep breath.

_Ow._

Dang. This was not going to work out well.

The shriek seemed to get louder, making his head feel like its walls were being expanded from the inside. His breaths quickened, making his ribs ache. He felt like he was being attacked on all fronts – he just wanted to lie down on the ground and pass out, anything to make the pain stop.

But he knew he had a job to do. So, he forced himself to take deep, controlled breaths.

_Focus. Breathe._

He still couldn’t open his eyes, but at least he could uncurl from the ball he had apparently curled into.

_Okay. One step at a time. We need a web-net. I need to see for that. So, I’m going to slowly open my eyes in three, two, one…_

He cracked his eyes open, just a smidge, trying to make the light exposure gradual. It still felt like his retinas were on fire, but he at least could keep his eyes open long enough to shoot a web over the large group of pterodactyls which crowded in front of him (thank you, Hawkeye). Then he shut his eyes, gave the web a hefty swing and shouted: “Hawkeye, explosive arrows!”

He winced in pain from both his ears and his ribs. And also everything else, but mainly those two things. The explosive arrow went off seconds later.

There were some things that you simply cannot live through without being scarred for life. Being rained on by pterodactyl body parts was one of those things.

Luckily, Peter wouldn’t have to experience that for another two years or so.

Peter cracked his eyes open when he heard the fizz of electricity.

“Betrayed again!” He exclaimed quietly, feigning hurt. “I thought you were real, Perry!”

“Perry…? You know what, forget it. I’ll get these to Stark, he’ll know what to do with them. Thanks for the assist, web-head.”

“No problem!” He saluted, trying very hard not to wince when he took a breath. He watched Hawkeye zipline away, a package of blown-up pterodactyl robots in his hand. Only when Hawkeye was finally out of sight did Peter allow himself to collapse to the ground completely.

“Oww…” He wheezed. Even doing _that_ hurt. “How did I not feel this before?” He almost mouthed, scared to breathe too much. “Must’ve been the adrenaline. Ah, jeez…” He winced, again. That seemed to be a side effect of the injury.

He thought back to his awkward landing.

“Huh. Must’ve cracked my ribs, or something.” He said, still laying on the rooftop. “I should probably get home to tend to this.”

He continued to lay on the rooftop. He couldn’t even take a proper deep breath to prepare to get up. “So, like a band-aid. Quick and painful.” He said from his spot on the rooftop. “Right. Three, two, one-” He abruptly stood up, and immediately regretted it. it was all he could not to cry out.

“Swinging’s off the table, then.” He wheezed. He really hoped he had pain killers back home.

He ended up taking the subway home, taking shallow breaths all the way, which he realized was probably bad, but he really couldn’t help it with the pain. He somehow managed to crawl up the wall to his room and stumble inside. Before anything else, he immediately swallowed down two Tylenol pills, then sat down and started researching his “symptoms”.

“Oh great.” He muttered. “Broken ribs. At least the pain is duller now.” He shook his head. He had imagined he would break his ribs at some point or other in his superhero career, he just didn’t think it would be because of an awkward landing. He bandaged his ribs tightly and tried his best to sleep well.

It took him almost three weeks to heal completely, but he went back to fighting crime after two days, trying not to jostle himself too much. (He was proud to say he stopped almost as many crimes as he would have regularly.) He researched a bit about injuries and their treatments in case he got injured again.

Who was he kidding, of course he was going to get injured again.

 

========================================================================

 

 

**-3**

Peter immensely regretted getting out of bed that morning. He clutched his shoulder, panting, as searing hot pain traveled through his arm, unpleasantly tingling at his fingertips.

“You okay back there, Spider-Man?” Captain America asked, not looking at him – not that Peter could blame him, he was kind of fighting off a giant scorpion with only his shield. Peter was sure he wanted to say something about scorpions and New York, but what he heard himself say instead was: “Just peachy.” He took a deep breath, deciding that webbing his arm to his side is probably a good idea, then webbed the scorpion in the face.

“Thanks, Spidey.” Cap breathed a sigh of relief, returning to the center of the city, where the rest of the scorpions were converged.

“This is going to hurt.” Peter sighed, then followed the Captain, trying his best to jog without looking like a penguin. He shot a web at a lamppost, deciding to help Cap from a distance, seeing as his arm wasn’t functioning, and it was extremely hard to concentrate when it felt like millions of tiny needles were having a field day on Peter’s arm. Luckily, there weren’t that many creatures left, so they wrapped up quickly (literally, in Peter’s case), and soon enough Peter found himself trying to figure out how the hell he was going to get home.

Taking the subway home in the suit again would be just embarrassing, and walking wasn’t an option – too far.

“Guess I’ll have to change out of the suit then…” He muttered, trying to figure out how the hell he was going to do that. He ran into an alley when he was sure no one was looking, and took a long look at his arm. He couldn’t rip away the webbing – it was too strong for him to rip without jostling his arm. His best option was to try and carefully shimmy his arm out of the sleeve. Or, shimmy the sleeve down around his arm. Every tug on the sleeve sent jolts of pain, like a knife slicing through his shoulder. He bit his lip, trying not to make a sound, and eventually he got into his civilian clothes and stepped out of the alley with tears in his eyes.

The subway ride was hell, but he finally got home. Luckily, it was Sunday, so Aunt May was attending a book club meeting and not at home to witness him barely holding back his tears of pain. He attacked his keyboard in search of what the hell was wrong with him. He typed in “dislocated shoulder symptoms”, because he suspected that’s exactly what had happened.

“Let’s see…” he muttered, and started skimming through the website.

  * A visibly deformed or out-of-place shoulder



He glanced in the mirror. His right shoulder looked like it popped out of its socket, like that break-dancer trick where the dancer drops their head. Except, Peter had no control over this.

So, check.

  * Swelling or bruising
  * Intense pain  
He almost laughed out loud. _Definitely_
  * Inability to move the joint.  
He could barely move his fingers from the pain, much less control his shoulder.



He kept reading – numbness, weakness, tingling near the injury… all check… so, he was right. Dislocated shoulder.

Sometimes he really hated being right.

Okay, so now he knew the injury, he knew the treatment. Sort of. He knew he had to push the shoulder back in.

He sighed.

“Alright. Just… push it back in. Shouldn’t be that hard.” He tried very hard not to be sarcastic. He had to be positive, for his own sake. “Ice is a good idea. Ice makes everything better.” He muttered, trying to delay the inevitable. “Actually, that’s not necessarily true. There was this one ice-based dude I fought once, and that was Very Unpleasant. In fact – wait, no, getting off track here, Peter. I need ice.” He chided himself and went downstairs for some ice. “Ho-kay, now just- pop it back in. no problem. Just, grab the shoulder-“ He put his fingers around his shoulder and just barely managed to turn a scream of pain into a muffled groan. “And- pop- it- in-“ He started pushing in his shoulder, gritting each word through his teeth. He pushed it one more time, and with a sickening CRACK sound, he felt his shoulder return to its original position. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his erratic breathing.

“Holy mother of tree hugging cows that _HURT._ ” He said, mostly to focus on something that’s not the pain. “Now I’ve got another one for the list.” He muttered, getting up carefully and popping 2 Tylenols into his mouth (honestly, Tylenol was turning into his best friend). Despite the pain, he actually felt pretty proud that he managed to treat his _own_ dislocated shoulder. That’s pretty badass.

With that thought, he laid himself on his bed and promptly fell asleep.

 

 

========================================================================

 

 

**-4**

 

The irony threatened to kill Peter.

Quite literally – the gigantic arachnid looming over him already had its fangs out, venom slowly dripping to the floor mere millimeters from Peter’s face.

“I know I’m supposed to like the spider theme and all, but this is too much!” His voice strained as he tried to throw the giant thing off him. With one final push, he threw it off, got to his feet and webbed the thing to the concrete, making sure to punch it a few times so it wouldn’t slice through the webbing. “Is this someone’s idea of a joke?” He jogged up to Black Widow, who was surveying the scene, smoking gun in hand. “’Cause, you know, we’re both Arachnid-themed heroes?”

“I could do with a lot less talking and a lot more webbing just about now, Spider.” She said coolly, kind of reminding Peter she was still a deadly assassin. He gulped.

“Yes, ma’am.” He looked around and started webbing the creatures up – to the floor, to each other, to lampposts – while Widow shot them. Peter felt bad for the things, but he really didn’t want to argue with _Black Widow_ over _spiders_. He jumped to the side of the building, trying to figure out a better method of taking them all out – there were still at least a hundred of them left.

“What are spiders scared of…?” He thought out loud, making sure to punch and web every spider that came close to him as to not lose precious butt-kicking time. A fire is too dangerous, a flood would be catastrophic to the city – unless they could get them to the sewers… but even then, would just water be enough to take these _gigantic_ things down? He turned to ask Black Widow for her input when he noticed one of the spiders running headfirst into a building. With that thing’s speed and mass…

“Widow, watch out!” He yelled before swinging over to the building to punch the spider – but it was too late. The creature had already slammed into the base of the building, sending cracks up the concrete base and shattering the fragile glass windows. There were civilians inside – Peter didn’t wait. He immediately started webbing up the cracks, trailing them up to the top of the building. He jumped inside through one of the many broken windows, yelling: “Everybody, out! This thing’s gonna collapse any minute now!”

But by the time people started listening to him, another tremor shook the building.

“Oh no.” He said intelligently, as the building started tilting sideways. He looked around frantically, trying to think fast – if he could keep the building stable long enough for the people in the higher floors to get down, maybe he could get everybody to safety, but for that- “Black Widow! I need your help!” He called, jumping out the window and trying to secure the building with webs as much as he could.

“What’s going on over there?”

“I’m gonna try and keep the building stable, but you need to help with evacuation – there are civilians on all floors of this building!” He called, just as he jumped up to one of the steel beams holding the building together, trying to tilt the building back to its original position by pushing it with his back.

“Copy that!” Black Widow ran into the building.

Peter didn’t really know what happened after that – he tried to focus all his strength on keeping the building from collapsing. “Come on, Spidey, work with your knees-“ He grunted, feeling himself slip downwards. People were shouting – they were scared – he couldn’t let go, he had to hold on to it, and it hurt like _hell_ in his muscles and in his back, where a piece of glass or metal was almost breaking through his skin. He didn’t know how long had passed before he heard Black Widow shouting that the civilians were secure. He sighed a breath of relief, and let go of everything. The building came crashing down on top of him, and he knew that there was glass everywhere, and there was something in his shoulder that hurt _a lot_ , but everyone was _safe._

He blinked, coughing under the rubble. He couldn’t hear anything, but he knew that if he stayed here any longer, it would not end well.

“Get up.” He told himself, and started pushing himself upwards, his arms shaking with the effort. “Get— _up!_ ” He pushed even harder, the rubble sliding off his back and into the ground, until he was finally free.

Everything was sore, but he was alive, and breathing, and he wanted to go home.

He came out of the pile of rubble to see a slightly frowning Black Widow, who seemed… relieved to see him.

“Spider-Man. Are you okay?” She asked, no emotions in her voice even as her shoulders sagged.

“Yeah, peachy.” He wheezed, then jerked a thumb in some direction or other. “I’m gonna head h- to my very secret base. That. Catch ya later.” He saluted lazily and shot a web to a nearby lamppost, swinging away home. How he did that, he had no idea, reflecting on the fight the next morning, because when he got home all the pain came rushing forward, and he noticed all the cuts over his entire body. But that wasn’t the worst part – no, he had glass shards sticking out of some of those cuts, as well as a _piece of metal jutting out of his lower back_.

Somehow, it managed not to hit his spine or any important organs, as a quick mental checklist of his symptoms told him. Moving became a problem once he noticed all of the pain.

“Okay, first things first – _get what you dese-herve –_ no, not the time for stupid catchy songs, brain, we need to take care of that piece of metal in my back. Okay, so, we pull it out. That’s what you do, right? If it hasn’t hit any vital organs, you pull it out. I should probably check that.” He took a deep breath, then whined painfully. “The computer is _so far,_ though.” He tried to move his leg – _holy cows that is way too painful but I can’t scream sh-_

He decided to wing it.

“I probably have some gauze somewhere around here, right?” He panted. “I should just-“ He wrapped his fingers around the piece of metal, trying hard not to jostle himself by _breathing too hard_. “Pull it out. Just pull it out. Just, gently…” He started moving the metal, pulling it out, biting down on his lip hard enough to break the skin but he couldn’t scream or close his eyes against the pain so that had to do-

The metal dropped to the floor, and he started bleeding.

He quickly pressed down on the wound, muttering something about different animal saints and their ancestry, while hunting for bandages and antiseptic. He stumbled into the bathroom, rummaging through the shelves and drawers, eventually pulling out everything he needed and wrapping the _blood-leaking wound in his back._ He knew he needed stitches, but he’ll get to it later.

He gave himself 2 minutes to rest before realizing that the blood would definitely stain and he _had to clean it up before morning or else Aunt May will see._ Also, he still had glass protruding from his arms, legs, and possibly chest. He sighed, _gently_ , and grabbed tweezers from the counter, setting to work on the rest of his body, peeling away parts of his costume every time he pulled out a shard to dab antiseptic on the cut and possibly slap a colorful band-aid on it. Most of the cuts on his arms and chest were shallow – when he reached his legs, the cuts started getting a little deeper, so he wrapped them, but then he got to his left calf, and realized he was in deep garbage.

He needed stitches here, too. He hoped he had enough thread.

“Ah, fish sticks. This too?” He said, his creativity dulled by the pain from pretty much everywhere. He pulled the glass out of his calf and generously poured antiseptic on it, hissing at the pain. He grabbed the needle and medical thread from his med-pack, shrugged, hoped for the best, and started stitching with slightly shaking hands, wincing at the stinging and feeling sick at the _foreign object_ threading its way through his body. He tied the thread, and repeated the process with his lower back, using the mirror to the best of his ability. He put the needle aside, then sighed in relief, cleaning the sink and counter and limping to his bed.

He honestly didn’t know whether to be proud (of handling it so well), concerned (for _having_ to) or just tired (because honestly. How many times did he have to treat his injuries before he can come out of an _important_ battle unscathed, like the Avengers?)

His body decided for him, as he fell asleep before his head touched the pillow.

 

 

========================================================================

 

**-5**

 

Daredevil was honestly _so_ awesome.

Peter didn’t _tell him_ that, obviously. He didn’t need to seem more like a kid than he already _did_. And he thought he did a pretty good job of not embarrassing himself – he stuck the landing on the roof, even stopped himself from saying something he would probably regret later – but then Daredevil had said-

“Kid, get away, it’s dangerous here!”

Peter socked one of the guys Daredevil was fighting in the face, then realized what Daredevil said, and froze.

There were definitely no other people around he could have referred to.

He couldn’t have seemed _that_ young, though, and besides, Daredevil wasn’t even looking at him!

Peter shrugged and webbed one of the guys in the face. They were all focused on Daredevil – he had to get their attention somehow.

“So, what’s your deal?” He asked, shooting a web at one of the guys and dragging him away from Daredevil, then punching him in the face. “Are you like, ninjas? ‘Cause let me tell ya-“ He stopped to punch someone in the jaw and then kick them in the stomach – “You’ve got some serious skills for a bunch of thugs. And those nun-chucks? Totally ninja.” He got their attention, alright – at least three of them were facing him now, looking confused, but mostly like he was getting on their nerves.

Perfect – his plan was working (he would rub his palms menacingly if he didn’t need his fists to punch them).

“I’m serious, kid. I appreciate you wanting to help-“ Daredevil grunted, kicking someone in the face and knocking them out cold. Peter tried very hard not to fanboy. “-But you could get seriously hurt.”

“That’s a bit hypocritical, don’t you think?” Peter threw, jumping over the three ninja-thugs heading his way and webbing them to each other. “This is a great bonding exercise for you guys!” He threw their way, then helped Daredevil punch some more bad guys as he groaned (Peter really hoped it wasn’t because of his pun – but who was he kidding).

“Go _home_.” He says instead of commenting.

“No way.” Peter says simply, delivering a strong kick to the back of one of the ninja-thugs’ knees and then knocking them out. By his count, there were four people left. Daredevil punched one of them in the face, sending them to the floor, then turned his attention to the other three. Peter tapped the shoulder of the fallen person, waiting for him to turn around so he could punch-

 _Oh no._ was the only thought in his mind when he saw the gun. Everything slowed down, the person pulling out ammo from a pocket, Daredevil suddenly looking at Peter, getting distracted enough to get repeatedly hit by the other three fighters, two of which had knives. Daredevil was going to get hurt because of him, just like _that time,_ and he can’t do anything, he’s too weak- Peter’s Spidey-Sense rung out, urging him to do _something, **anything at all**_ -

He shook himself out of it, literally, and blocked the gun, pointing it downwards-

Too late.

**_BANG!_ **

He couldn’t see, or move, or breathe, the pain flared in his leg and spread to his entire being, engulfing his mind and making it impossible to function, but Daredevil was hurt and he needed him and is possibly getting his butt handed to him all because Peter choked so he had to snap out of it and-

“Kid!” A voice wheezed out. Peter was seeing double, but he could make out that the attackers were all on the ground.

Peter didn’t understand what was going on. One minute those guys were stabbing Daredevil and something is painful in his leg but now Daredevil is fine and the bad guys aren’t hurting him anymore?

“Yeah, I took care of them.” Oh, he said that out loud. Oops. “You were shot, in the leg.” Daredevil panted, he sounded bad- “I’m fine, just a few cuts, but you need to go to the hospital-“

“No, no hospital-“ For the first time since being apparently _shot_ Peter recognized his own voice and it was choked. That wasn’t good.

“Okay, well I have a friend- she’s a nurse, let me call her-“

“No, no it’s fine, I’m fine, I’m okay,” He rambles, but he can’t really move, and there are tears on his face and everything is choking he has to _get away_ -

“Jesus- I _told_ you to get away! You’re- you’re too young for this. How old are you, sixteen? Fifteen?” He said accusingly. Peter flinched at the accurate guess. “Oh my- are you suicidal? I can understand stopping robberies or local crimes, but- this? Going up against armed, trained-“

“Ninjas?” Peter asked weakly.

“This really isn’t the time for jokes. You’re losing blood. You need to put pressure on the wound.”

“Way ahead of you.” Peter said- and for once, he was. He had webbed up the wound as soon as he regained the ability to recognize his own voice.          

“What on Earth made you come here tonight?” Daredevil said, exasperated.

“You were in trouble. I wanted to help.”

“You- you can’t seriously be delusional enough to not realize you’re no match for all these _armed_ people!”

“Look, I know I might not look like much, but I actually pack quite a punch, okay? It’s just- I saw the gun, and I- I choked.”

“I know! I noticed! That’s why you shouldn’t have been here in the first place! You’re just a kid, of _course_ you’d get scared of a gun! I’d be more worried if you didn’t!”

“Hey! Just because I’m fifteen doesn’t mean I haven’t ever dealt with guns before, okay?” He said, heatedly. “It just- It took me back to some very unpleasant memories.” He trailed off, probably confusing Daredevil, but he was a bit too exhausted to care.

Daredevil sighed.

“I can’t keep letting you do this.” He paused, probably to think. “But something tells me there isn’t anything I can do to make you stop.”

“Nope.” Peter popped the ‘p’. Daredevil anxiously shifted his weight.

“I… appreciate your help. I didn’t need it,” He hurried to say, “but it’s appreciated.” The words hung in the air awkwardly. “Now can you let me help you with that wound, in return?” He stepped forward. _Aha!_ Peter’s brain supplied. _His gratitude was a ploy!_

Peter had probably lost too much blood. His thoughts were getting a bit weird.

“Still no.” He stepped back, his vision going white when he stepped on his wounded leg. “But-“ his voice strained, “You can help me by not actually telling anyone about my age.”

“Why wouldn’t I do that?”

“If you don’t tell anyone, I’ll stay away from Hell’s Kitchen.” It’s not like Daredevil really _needed_ his help, and he definitely didn’t feel at home in Hell’s Kitchen. It was very clearly Daredevil’s territory.

The man in question seemed to consider.

“Alright. Deal. But promise me something- come by to Nelson & Murdock law firm tomorrow. I know the people who work there. Just come by so I know you didn’t bleed out.” He seemed weirdly passionate about this. Peter nodded (He didn’t know how the hell he could do that without giving away his identity – he couldn’t very well just drop by as Spider-Man, could he? – but he’ll figure it out later). Daredevil nodded too, then took off.

Peter used mostly his hands to get home. He used only his hands to climb to his window, then dropped himself on the floor.

He was lucky he didn’t have to dig the bullet out. He just needed antiseptic and very good stitches. Things he had already done before.

One problem: He was having a very hard time breathing, and he was shaking terribly.

Shock, probably. But he couldn’t afford that right now. Not at all.

“Alright, Peter, calm down. Just breathe.” He talked, to fill the silence. “You need to be steady to do the stitches, so breathe.” He tore the mask off his face, taking gulps of air. “Okay. Okay, alright, fine, just grab the things, the stuff, the shindigs-“ He shot a web and fetched the first aid kit. He cut away the costume around the wound, immediately regretting it (making that thing wasn’t easy, alright?), and dissolved the webbing- which resulted in _a lot_ of pain. He grunted and bit down on his mattress, trying his best to stay silent. He poured the antiseptic, barely keeping himself from screaming in agony – his eyes filled with tears, he had a _gaping hole in the middle of his leg, thank god it wasn’t an artery_ – he stitched it, shaking, barely managing to close it, then immediately lost consciousness.

He officially hated the list.

And possibly the entirety of Hell’s Kitchen.

Daredevil was still cool, though.

 

 

========================================================================

 

**+1**

 

“Nice shot, kid!” Hawkeye yelled over the comms. Peter groaned.

“Seriously, when are you going to stop calling me kid?”

“Maybe when you turn eighteen.” Daredevil joined the conversation.

“I _am_ eighteen!” Peter cried, feeling his stomach churn at the possibility of Daredevil completely blowing his entire cover. Daredevil’s evil chuckle distracted Peter from Hawkeye choking on his own spit.

“Wait, what?” He heard Tony over the comm. “What is that supposed to mean?” Tony asked as he shot down a couple of drones in front of Peter.

“Thanks,” He panted, “I’m gonna go high!” He pointed at the top of the nearest building, elegantly changing the subject.

“Are you a minor?” Captain America’s voice sounded over the comms.

“Seriously guys? Right now?” Peter asked, scaling the building. “I think we have more important things to worry about at the moment.” He pushed himself off the side of the building, shot a web to its corner, swung and hit one of the drones square in the face.

“No, don’t try to change the subject!” Hawkeye called, sounding anxious.

“Seriously, how old are you?” Falcon asked.

“I’m not underage, okay? Daredevil just likes annoying me.” He let his mouth run off on its own while he scanned the streets, trying to find a commander of some sort that he could take out.

“Yeah, it’s my favorite hobby.” Daredevil supplied sarcastically. Peter wanted to find him and web his foot to his mouth. He _knew_ Daredevil didn’t exactly approve of his… _activities_ , being the age that he was, but they had an _agreement._

“Spider-Man, we’re serious about this. How old are you?” Cap said again, using his Captain America voice. Peter huffed, annoyed.

“You guys said you would respect the fact that I want to keep my identity hidden.” He tried, punching a drone in the face and swinging it into the building below him.

“Telling us your age is not revealing your identity to us.” Tony’s voice sounded strained. He was probably lifting one of the drones.

“Look, how about we find the commander of this whole thing and then we can talk about this?” Peter offered, trying to spot a pattern in the factions of attacking drones. It looked like whoever was controlling them wanted to divide the Avengers. _Smart move_ , Peter thought, searching for anything odd. Each Avenger was in a different corner of the city block… if you connected the factions like a game of connect-the-dots, you would get an octagon, which meant that _whoever was controlling this must be in the center!_ Peter leaped from the building, making his way towards the center of the block, where a small fountain sat right in the middle of the street. Peter smirked.

“Hm, I wonder what _this_ does…” He mocked, pulling a very suspicious looking lever. In his search for the person behind this, he didn’t even notice the onslaught of questions the Avengers were shooting at him. Inside the pool of the fountain, a small hole opened. Peter jumped in.

It was much less fancy than he had expected. No advanced machinery, no control center, just a small room with some food and a bed. Peter looked around quickly, trying to find- well, anything, really.

“So, you found me.” A voice rasped from somewhere in the room.

“Exactly.” Peter tried not to startle. “And I’m gonna have to ask you to stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Well, you’re the one controlling those drones, right? I need you to call them off.” Peter swerved around, trying to locate the owner of the voice.

“I can’t do that. Well, that’s not accurate.” The voice seemed to reverberate around Peter, coming from everywhere at once. “I just don’t _want_ to.” The voice said quietly, and then something lunged at Peter, pinning him to the ground. He struggled as a knife was pointed at his throat, trying to push the figure off him, but managing only to move the hands gripping the knife in the direction of his abdomen.

“Fans these days, they’re so _aggressive_!” Peter quipped, shooting a web at what he assumed was the figure’s face. The figure cursed loudly and rolled off Peter, trying to tear the webbing away from their eyes. Peter stood up and took the chance to hit the figure in the jaw – but the figure caught his fist. Caught off guard, Peter tried to take his fist back, but the figure was much stronger than him. His Spider-Sense ringed, and he swerved left just before the knife met his face. He somersaulted over the figure, finally retrieving his hand, and delivered a kick to the figure’s back. The figure stumbled forward, but quickly regained their composure, slicing the air with their knife. Peter webbed the figure hands together and punched them a few times in the face in the hopes of knocking them out, but not a minute passed before their hands were free, and the knife was suddenly lodged in Peter’s side. Well, lodged might have been a strong word, but his side was bleeding and the knife looked comfortable staying in it.

Peter gasped, but he didn’t allow himself to stop. He quickly pulled the knife out, crying out in pain, and webbed it to the ceiling.

“ _Now_ we’re fair. Didn’t you ever hear that you can’t bring a knife to a fist fight?” He panted, trying to land a few punches to the figure’s abdomen.

“That’s not even close to the actual saying.” The figure sounded mainly annoyed, but their movements got more sluggish. Peter took advantage of this and kicked the figure right in the stomach, sending them flying back into the wall. Peter stepped forward and delivered a final punch to the figure’s jaw, effectively knocking them out.

He let himself breathe a sigh of relief as he webbed the figure up.

“How’s it going up there?” He said into his comm, which he had been calmly ignoring for the past five or so minutes, as he climbed out of the weird room, wincing every time he had to stretch his side.

“How’s it- How’s it-?!” Tony sounded like he was trying not to strangle somebody.

“Has the fighting stopped?” Peter clarified.

“Surprisingly enough, yes.” Daredevil responded calmly. Everybody else, on the other hand, seemed to be choking on their tongues.

“Uhh… guys? What’s going on?” Peter asked cautiously.

“What’s going on, Spidey, is you disappear off comms for five whole minutes without telling anyone where you’re going _while_ we’re discussing the matter of your age.” Falcon cleared. Peter groaned again, then immediately regretted it as he hissed in pain.

“Are you hurt?” Cap asked immediately.

“It’s nothing.” Peter waved it off as the Avengers approached from the different streets that branched out from the fountain. He held his side, trying to stop the bleeding. Every visible face paled.

“ _That’s_ nothing?!” Falcon asked, running to Peter’s side.

“Yes, honestly, I’m fine. I just need to web it up to stop the bleeding and I’ll take care of it once I get home.” Peter said, confused by their reaction. Nervous glances were exchanged. “What’s with you guys, seriously?”

“Yeah, no, that’s not happening. We’re taking you to the tower.” Tony said, using a tone that brokered no argument. Peter argued anyway.

“What? You guys get hurt like this all the time, it’s nothing! Ugh, this is why I didn’t want to talk about the age thing. I knew you’d start babying me! I can take care of myself, okay?” he started walking away. Hawkeye stopped him, grabbing his arm, but not looking at him.

“Why would you think this is about your age? Does it justify babying?” Tony pressed.

“What he’s _trying_ to say,” Black Widow intervened for the first time, “Is that your injury is serious regardless of your age, and we want to treat it appropriately. When one of us gets hurt, we heal at the med-bay. That’s just how it is.” She said sternly.

Peter appreciated the fact that she talked to him as an equal, not like a baby - but he was still confused.

“But…” his brain was slow, maybe because of the blood loss, “I’m not one of _you_. I’m just… me.” He found himself saying, even though he was pretty convinced those were private thoughts. Darned blood loss.

“Doesn’t matter. You’ve lost a lot of blood. We need to get that fixed. Come on.” She jerked her head in the general direction of the quinjet, and started walking.

“Thank you, but I don’t understand the fuss. I’ve been injured worse before, I can handle this on my own.” He argues still. Hawkeye’s grip on his arm tightened.

“But that’s the thing, Webs. You don’t _have_ to.” He said, looking solemn.

Peter was a bit too tired and shocked to argue after that.

“So, how old are you really?” Falcon asked as they were walking to the jet.

“Guess I can’t escape this now, can I?” He laughed humorlessly, trying not to wince.

“Nope.” Falcon said as Daredevil chuckled. Peter gave double D the best ‘I hate you’ vibe that he could manage, then sighed.

“I’m almost sixteen.” Everyone stopped.

“WHAT?!” Tony roared. Peter wanted to shrink into a ball. “You… you said this wasn’t the worst that you’ve ever been injured… Jesus, kid, what do you do to yourself? And how did you take care of it all by yourself?” He sounded horrified and guilty, but Peter was too tired to pick up either of those.

“Oh, yeah, I wasn’t exaggerating. There was that one time with the dislocated shoulder… and then there was this one time I had a piece of metal in my lower back, so I stitched that as well as my calf…” Tony had a hard time breathing, “Oh, and just last week I treated my own gunshot wound, so there’s that-”

“Kid, you should probably stop talking before Iron Dad over here gets an aneurysm.” Daredevil said, sounding too much like he would enjoy that outcome.

“Oops...” Peter slurred before Falcon sat him down on a chair in the jet and strapped him in as he fought to stay awake.

“You’re gonna be just fine, Web-Head. We’ll take care of you.” He heard Falcon say.

 _Guess the list is on hold_ , he thought as his consciousness drifted away.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I have no idea why I like writing Peter Whump so much. But, my mind works in mysterious dumb ways, so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> Comments and/or criticism are always appreciated, just be gentle because I am fragile ^^  
> [ Buy me a coffee :) ](https://ko-fi.com/tastybrownies)  
> Also, the song Peter is reminded of is First Things First by Neon Trees :3


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